


Three Pronged

by authoresskika



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types
Genre: Canon, F/M, Family, Friendship, post-rebellion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-25
Updated: 2013-03-25
Packaged: 2017-12-06 12:46:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,191
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/735843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/authoresskika/pseuds/authoresskika
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everlark eight years post-rebellion, as seen through the eyes of Annie Cresta Odair.</p><p>Banner by Ro Nordmann</p>
            </blockquote>





	Three Pronged

****

**Monday**

I hear the train approaching miles before it comes into view. It's a gentle click-clack, click-clack at first. I know it will become a deafening roar by the time I see the massive beast of metal and steam come into view. But it comforts me for now, knowing my friends are so close by.

Nick tugs on my skirt and I pet his curls with my palm. "Are they close, Mama?"

"Yes, baby. Are you excited?"

Nick looks a little conflicted. "Yes…but will Auntie Katniss be sad?"

My son has too much on his mind for such a little boy.

"Maybe. But you know that seeing you always cheers her up when she is sad," I tell him.

Nick considers this, and nods slowly. A smile spreads across his face. "Uncle Peeta promised to make pancakes. Do you remember his pancakes, Mama? They're so yummy."

I kiss the crown of his head. My hair. Finnick's eyes. My baby. The sound is getting louder. I suppress the instinct to cover my ears with my palms. "Uncle Peeta is our guest this week, baby. Don't make him do too much work, alright?"

"Yes, Mama," he tells me. He bounces around on his heels, and whistles a little tune. I want to tell him he's being too loud, but I can't deny my son this little pleasure. He loves to whistle. And he knows to be quiet. He knows how my ears are.

The train barely comes into view a long way down the tracks. Nick jumps up and down excitedly. "I see it, Mama! I see the train!"

"Do you want to wait out here for it to stop, baby?" I ask him. The sound is beginning to grate on my ears. If I don't put something between me and it before it comes to a stop, I'll lose it for sure. My ears can't handle it. But if I step inside the train station behind the wide windows, I can still watch him _and_ guard my ears. We've done it before. It helps.

"Yes. I'll stay right here, I promise," he tells me with a devious smile. With _Finnick's_ devious smile.

"No running about until the train stops all the way, Nick, promise me," I tell him seriously. The noise is infiltrating my brain. I just want to go inside the train station before it gets any louder.

"I promise, Mama! I'll wait here until I see Uncle Peeta. I won't move a muscle!" he exclaims. I kiss the crown of his head again before turning to go inside the station door marked with a green number 4. I pick a window that has a perfect vantage point to watch my child quiver with excitement. But he is true to his word: despite being rambunctious and seven years old, my son stands in one spot. He doesn't move until the train whistle blows loudly, making me jump. Even twenty feet away and with glass and concrete separating my ears from the noise, it's like I have my ear pressed up against the source of it. My ears betray me, always.

Eight years ago, Finnick would wrap his arms around me and whisper into my ears until the noises stopped. His voice would be my barrier. His sweet words would keep me calm. He's gone, but I remember every one of them. After all these ears, his ghost still protects me. I know it will for the rest of my days.

The train screeches to a (loud) stop, and Nick leaps into the air excitedly. Several doors are thrown open and people begin to file off. I worry I'll lose sight of him in the crowd, but he stays where I've asked him to until a blonde mop of curls steps out onto the platform. Then he's hurdling towards him like a flash of lightning, squealing in excitement. I can hear him as though I were standing right there with him.

"Uncle Peeta! Uncle Peeta!" Nick cries with the enthusiasm only a child is truly capable of.

"Excuse me, little boy, I'm looking for my friend Nick…he's about two feet tall and always has his shoe laces untied…" Peeta Mellark's calm voice says teasingly.

Nick squeals. "Uncle Peeta, it's me! I'm here!"

"No, you can't possibly be…my friend Nick is a small child no bigger than a baby, not a strapping young lad such as yourself…"

"Uncle Peeta!" Nick says, and stamps his foot. Peeta grins and opens his arms to my son who leaps into them gratefully. The sounds of the hubbub and the train grow lower and more manageable for my ears. I'm able to force my way against the crowd and have almost reached them when the other person Nick and I have been waiting for steps off the train and stands behind the hugging man and child.

"Auntie Katniss!" Nick squeals in delight, and abandons Peeta's arms in favor of the slender ones that belong to Katniss Everdeen. Katniss presses her face into my son's hair, and breathes deeply. She loves the smell of him: salt, sand, grass, and sugar. My son has most assuredly inherited his father's sweet tooth.

"We've missed you, little bug," she tells him. Nick beams at her.

"Mama went inside because the train was too—oh, wait. Mama! We're here!" he calls to me, but not too loudly. Still holding my child close, Katniss waves to me. Peeta wraps his arms around me when I reach his side.

"My arms have been abandoned for much prettier ones. How are you, Annie?" Peeta says as he hugs me. I give him a long hug back, and think _Better now that you're both here_.

I say only, "Good. I'm glad to see you."

"Thanks for having us," Katniss says, her face still pressed against Nick's hair. Her eyes are darting around nigh constantly, as though she's looking for someone. But as I requested, I didn't tell her mother she'd be here the last time I ran into her at the grocers in town. It's none of my business what goes on between the two of them.

"Auntie Katniss, we're going out on the boat at the end of the week! Aren't you excited?" Nick says. He grows impatient when Peeta and Katniss pay attention to anyone but him. He's supposed to be the most important creature in anyone's lives, of course. Surely we know better than to deprive him of all the attention in the world.

"I am, bug. Are you going to steer?" she asks him. Nick nods excitedly.

"No you won't, Nick," I tell him. His face falls.

"But Ma _ma_ ," he begins. I silence him with my eyes, and he retreats closer into Katniss's embrace.

"We didn't bring a lot of bags, but we should go get them anyway," Peeta says, tousling Nick's hair. "Come on, partner. Want a piggy back ride?"

Nick breaks away from his Auntie in favor of his Uncle's strong shoulders, and they lead Katniss and I back into the station. Our arms link automatically as we follow them.

"Are you really okay, Annie?" she asks me softly.

I shrug in response. "How are you?"

She shrugs as well. We understand without any more words. Neither of us will ever be really okay. But she has Peeta and I have Nick, so we get by. That's all we can ever really hope for.

* * *

Nick insists on showing Katniss the strip of beach behind our house when we arrive home as if he's forgotten he takes her on the exact same tour every time she comes for a visit. Peeta offers to help me with lunch. I lay out a spread of rolls, meats, cheeses, and dried fruit while he tends to a tea kettle. He's so loud as he moves about the kitchen, though I know he doesn't mean to be. It's a strange departure from my usually so quiet house when guests come to stay, but it's not unwelcome. And besides, I _need_ Katniss and Peeta here this week.

"When will it arrive, Annie?" Peeta asks after several moments of working in near silence. He snatches the kettle off the flame before it has a chance to whistle, which I'm grateful for.

"The President's letter said it would be Tuesday or Wednesday. Will that give you enough time?" I tell him. He nods his head.

"It'll be fine, I'm sure. Have you told Nick at all?" he asks, pouring the steaming water over the tea leaves.

"He'll like hearing it better from you. Your arrival was all he could talk about all weekend," I tell him. He smiles that winning Peeta smile that no manner of struggle or hardship can truly defeat. Unless you saw his scars, you'd have trouble believing that this Peeta Mellark was the same one who came to Thirteen in such dire shape eight years ago.

"He's so great, Annie. You know that, right?" he tells me. There's a wistfulness to his voice.

"He is. He's the best of both of us, I think," I say with a small smile. "Finnick…would have loved him so much."

"He _does_. I'm sure of it," Peeta says, and puts his hand on my shoulder gently. I swallow over a thick lump in my throat and nod at him.

"I know it," I reply. It will never not be hard for Peeta and I to talk about Finnick—he and Katniss still blame themselves. I've grown weary of reassuring them that I don't. So most of the time we avoid the topic altogether. I'm not sure if that's better or worse.

The back door slams as it opens, and I hear Nick scamper inside. "Mama? Uncle Peeta? Auntie Katniss and I are hungry!"

"Good thing you're home when you are then, bug," Peeta tells him as he enters the kitchen.

"Go wash up before we eat, baby," I say. Nick groans, but climbs the stairs as I ask anyway. As if from nowhere, Katniss appears next to Peeta at the stove. He turns to her and smiles at her with the different smile he reserves just for her.

"Take this to the table? It's hot," he says to her as she takes the teapot from him. She nods. I avert my eyes as he leans down to press his lips tenderly against her own—some things are not for me to see, even if I can hear the light popping as their lips separate clear as day. They don't have to know that, of course.

Nick bounds down the stairs a moment later and sits in his chair expectantly. Peeta and I pass around plates and Katniss pours us all tea. For several minutes there are only sounds of clinking plates and swallowing. Sounds I'm used to. Sounds I know.

"Nick, I have a favor I need to ask," Peeta says, crossing his hands over his plate. Nick quirks his head.

"Uncle Peeta, I tried to show you how to steer the boat last time, and you kept doing it _wrong_ ," my son replies. Peeta laughs.

"No, my days as a sailor were never meant to be. But that's not it. I need your help in…building something…" Peeta says, enticing my excitable son with the secrecy of his words.

"Like a ship in a bottle?" Nick asks conspiratorially.

"Bigger. Much bigger," Peeta tells him.

"Like _ten_ ships in bottles?!" Nick continues. Peeta laughs again.

"I'll show you after lunch. But it's going to be our secret what it is until it's done…you can't tell your Mama or Auntie Katniss," Peeta says.

"But…they're right here…" Nick says confused as he looks between Katniss and I.

"We don't know what it is, little bug. It'll be a surprise for us when you show it to us," Katniss reassures him. This placates my son nicely.

"Okay…when do we start, Uncle Peeta?"

"First thing tomorrow morning. It might take all day, maybe even all week…but we have to make sure we're done by the time we go out on the boat on Friday morning, so I need you to be a hard worker…can you do that?" Peeta explains. Nick nods his head quickly.

"We're gonna build the best…whatever we're building EVER," Nick says proudly, and puffs up his chest. Katniss smiles at him. Peeta looks over Nick's head, and catches Katniss's eye. They communicate silently for a long moment. It's nice, not being able to hear something for a change.

* * *

Sometimes I keep my bedroom windows open at night. I have the most breathtaking view of our little beach from the center one. It's the perfect spot to watch from when Nick and his friends play Pirates. They make too much noise for me to be down there with them most of the time. But my baby never goes far from where I can see him from one of my windows.

I keep them closed when Katniss and Peeta come to stay. Peeta always sleeps with the windows open, and as it is, I overhear them already from the bedroom next door. If both of our windows were open, I'd only be able to hear them clearer. I feel bad enough overhearing what I do.

I lie in bed that night, hoping I'll fall asleep before they begin any sort of conversation. It never works the first night they're here—Katniss has too much trouble sleeping in a strange bed.

"Nick's gotten so big, hasn't he?" Peeta's voice says. "I don't think you'll be able to call him 'little bug' much longer."

"I'll always call him 'little bug'. That's his name," Katniss says. There's lightheartedness in her voice. She adores my son.

"I know it. He practically bounced off the wall when I showed him my drawing," Peeta tells her.

"Your drawing that you still won't show _me_ ," she scolds gently.

"How else would it be a surprise?"

"You told Annie."

"I told her something very vague. She doesn't know what it is, either. It's Nick and my secret until the end of the week."

"You hate secrets, Peeta."

"Only ones that hurt people. This secret doesn't hurt anyone, Katniss."

His voice is patient. Hers is taking on an edge. I wish I could stop hearing. I wrap my pillow around my head, but it muffles very little.

"You adore him, don't you?" Katniss says.

"Nick? Yes. He's wonderful. Don't you?" Peeta responds.

"Yes. But you shouldn't. I shouldn't. He's not ours."

"I know. He's Annie's. We just borrow his affection from time to time. There's nothing wrong with that."

"It makes you…want things. Things I can't give you."

"Katniss, stop…"

"No…it makes me feel guilty. I love Nick, I love how you play with him and fawn over him, but that isn't…it's not…"

"Katniss, enough. We shouldn't talk about this here. We'll leave it for home."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be. It's alright."

"No, it isn't."

"Yes, it is. Please, Katniss. Just stop thinking about it for now."

"Make love to me."

"Right now?!"

"Yes. Why not?"

"Nick and Annie might hear. You know how you get."

"I don't care. Make love to me."

Katniss is insistent. Peeta is confused.

"You're angry, Katniss. Why are you angry?"

"I'm _not_ angry. Take off your pants, Peeta."

Some shuffling. I want to turn my ears off. I've heard all this before. It's wrong for me to overhear this. It's too personal. It's none of my business. _I wish I could turn my ears off._

"Katniss, I…ugh…we should talk about this before we…oh…we shouldn't do this when… _oh…_ "

"Do you want me to stop?"

"N-no…"

"Then take your pants off."

"Y-yes."

I change tactics. They try to be quiet when they make love next door, but they never quite succeed. The headboard bangs against the wall. Katniss's voice raises towards the end. Peeta cries out louder than he intends to. And I know too much about my friends for me to look them in the eye the next morning. So I push my fingers in my ears, and hum a tune. A tune that Finnick used to hum to me when I'd have a fit. The same tune Nick loves to whistle. I hum it over and over again. Every so often I stop to see if it's safe to stop. Their groans of pleasure fill my ears. I start to hum again.

Finally, all I hear is panting. I keep my pillow wrapped around my ears, just in case. But they're done—they'll be asleep soon, at least until the nightmares begin. Sometimes I sleep through those. But not always.

"We always make such a mess of poor Annie's linens," Peeta says between gasping breaths. They're courteous house guests—they always make sure they're the ones to wash the bed linens before they leave.

"You mean _you_ make a mess," Katniss says.

"I _have_ to. Otherwise…"

"Stop. Don't say it."

"I won't."

"I know what happens when you don't…you know…"

"We're not having this fight again. You trust me to always take care of things when we make love, right?"

"Yes."

"Then I always will. I know how you feel. You know I feel differently. It's okay. It doesn't mean I don't love you."

"It doesn't mean I don't love you, either."

"Good. We should try to sleep."

"We should."

"I love you, Katniss."

"I love you, Peeta."

They fall asleep. I fall asleep. If they wake up to nightmares, I don't hear them. I sleep until my son bounces on my bed the next morning, demanding I get up and eat pancakes before he and Auntie Katniss eat them all.

**Tuesday**

It's been just Katniss and I all morning. Peeta woke Nick up with the sun, and they walked into town together to purchase everything they need for whatever it is they plan to build. We don't have a lot to say to one another, Katniss and I, but I don't mind. She's so quiet and still. My ears never hurt around her when it's just the two of us. But I'm sure she's bored with me—Katniss isn't the type of woman to take to something like knitting.

"You're welcome to take a walk, Katniss. Go for a swim. Whatever you'd like," I tell her after she pours herself another cup of tea and sighs.

"We came to see you. Help you through the week," Katniss says simply.

"And I appreciate it. But you're not the sort to sit and keep still. Go outside if you'd like…I'm sure it's a lovely day."

"Peeta wants to marry me." Her sentence is enough to make me drop my knitting.

"Come again?" I ask.

"He proposed. Before we got on the train to come here, he…he wants to visit my mother and talk to her about it. He wants to marry me," she explains. She should look happy. Instead, she looks miserable.

"You don't want to marry him?" I ask.

"I…I don't want to lose him. Not like I did—almost did," she says. "I wouldn't be able to bear it. And I don't want to become my mother if something…oh, Annie, what do I do?"

I don't know what to tell her. I smooth my knitting out in front of me and think of Finnick. About our wedding. The beautiful cake Peeta managed to make, despite the tracker jacker venom warping his brain. Of our time together. Of the time we should have had and didn't.

"He loves you, Katniss. You know that. You two need one another. Married or not, I can't ever see you apart. Not after everything you've been through," I tell her finally. She may have been looking for a more simple answer. A "yes, marry him at once", or "no, don't do it". I cannot give her that.

"What if we…what if he…" Katniss stammers. I place my hand over hers.

"Life is full of those, Katniss. There's nothing to be done about them. You've survived. We all have. Isn't that what's important?"

She opens her mouth to say something else, but I stop her with a wave of my hand. _Nick…_

He's crying. Screaming. My baby. _No._

Katniss races after me as I flee the house in search of my son. What's happened? Has he lost Peeta somewhere? Are they hurt?

"Mama! Mama! Auntie Katniss! Mama!" Nick's cries become louder, and Katniss hears them as well. A moment later my son has his small arms wrapped around my waist and Katniss is petting his hair.

"What's wrong, baby? Are you hurt?"

"N-no…U-uncle P-Peeta…" Nick begins, but Katniss doesn't give him a chance to finish before she's off like a flash in the direction Nick had run for us from. I kneel down and cradle my child in my arms. He's shaking. He's terrified. Katniss is terrified.

That must mean…

"Baby, what happened to Uncle Peeta?" I ask Nick when his sobs dissolve into hiccups a few minutes later.

"I d-dunno…one minute he was f-fine, and then he t-told me I should r-run…g-get Auntie K-Katniss…Mama, he scared me," Nick tells me finally. I kiss his forehead.

"Oh, my baby…it's okay. You're okay," I tell him as I help him walk towards our house.

"W-what's wrong with him? Is he s-sick? He…he wasn't Uncle Peeta anym-more, Mama."

"I know it. I'll explain everything later, baby, I promise."

I simmer milk over the stove and give it to my son to help calm his nerves. He lays down and falls into a deep sleep. It's barely past noon, but I know he'll sleep for hours if I let him. It's better this way. I should know what happened before he does.

I sit down with my knitting again until I hear footsteps—near silent ones, and heavy, shuffling ones—at my front door. I get up to meet them. Peeta looks like he's aged a year. His eyes are puffy and red. Katniss appears to be holding up most of his weight. They both look so tired.

"Annie…I…I don't know what to say. I'm so, so sorry," Peeta says. His voice sounds as shaky as Nick's had. I open my arms to him. Like a child, he falls into them. I pet his hair and shush him softly. He can't help when these happens. But it's never happened in front of my son before. He's sure to feel awful, but he shouldn't. I can't shelter Nick from the reality that was our lives before he came into the world forever.

Katniss had explained the mechanics of the game to me years ago. Explained how it was the quickest way to bring Peeta back to reality. "You love my son like he was your own flesh and blood; real or not real?"

"R-real," he whispers. He hugs me tighter. I return his embrace. I look over his shoulder to find Katniss, but she's nowhere to be found. I help Peeta to the kitchen and sit him down to pour him a cup of tea. I see marks around his wrists from where Katniss must have restrained him. He's still shaking, but he's calmer. I resist the urge to put him down for a nap as well—he is not my child. He's my friend, and he's had a bad day, but I won't be condescending towards him. He's a grown man.

"I should apologize to Nick," he says after a long silence. I shake my head softly.

"Eventually. He's asleep now. I should talk to him before you do," I tell him.

"It came out of nowhere. Usually I know what triggers it, but this time…he was so frightened, Annie. The last thing I remember knowing for certain was how much I hated him looking so frightened," he explains. He puts his head in his hands. I smooth his hair again. He begins to cry softly, but there isn't much left in him since this is the second time in such a short period. I want to say something comforting. I cannot find the words.

So I let him cry. The house is silent apart from his muffled sobs. Until a moment later, when I hear something I have only heard a handful of times before. Something sweet and soft, so unlike the bearer. Something that makes mockingjays stop to listen.

"Deep in the meadow, under the willow…

* * *

Their voices are more hushed that night. They do not want to be overheard. I wish I could oblige them this. My pillow still does nothing.

"Maybe you're right, Katniss. Maybe it's a terrible idea to have children."

"Because of what happened today? Peeta, that wasn't your fault."

"There must have been triggers…I just didn't see them…"

"Stop."

"Nick was terrified. Because of me. Because of what I couldn't control."

"He's okay. You saw him."

Katniss is right. After she and my son came back downstairs, Nick had wrapped his arms around Peeta's neck and squeezed. He'd looked Peeta right in the eyes and said, "Don't worry, Uncle Peeta. When I'm bigger, I'll help Auntie Katniss when the day-mares come. I'll make sure I'm strong like you so I can hold you back. I'll help protect you."

My son had been baffled by the tears in all three of our pairs of eyes at his promise.

"He shouldn't have to be okay like that. I'm…I'm no good to be a father, I'm sure of it."

"I'd be a worse mother. But I don't want you to think like that. Let's sleep, okay?"

"I'm not tired."

"I was thinking about what you asked. Before we came here."

"Don't, Katniss. Not tonight. Not like this."

"I'm not saying yes because I pity you, Peeta Mellark. I'm saying yes because I love you."

"Katniss…"

"I'll marry you. I'll spend the rest of my life with you. I'll protect you."

"Katniss…"

"Peeta…"

"Really?"

"Yes."

Their lovemaking is slow, but as quiet as they've ever been. I close my ears as best as possible, and am asleep before they finish. For once, I don't feel horribly guilty for how sharp my hearing is.

**Wednesday**

It arrives in the early afternoon, in a long wooden box like the one I should have been able to bury my husband in. It's hermetically sealed. I worry about opening it in front of Peeta, afraid that seeing it will bring on another flashback, but he seems stronger today. He and Nick worked all morning on their project, and had made jokes all through lunch. Katniss helped me bring in the fishing lines, and had sung quietly enough she thought I couldn't hear her the entire time.

Being engaged agrees with the pair of them. But I don't tell them I know. It's none of my business.

I hear my blood pumping in my veins. My eyelashes rub together when I blink. This is the exact sort of stress I usually cannot handle. Peeta and Katniss keep me strong.

A letter is attached, bearing the seal of President Brinna Paylor. The letter is handwritten, not by an aide or assistant, but by the President herself. I cannot handle reading it. Peeta reads it aloud for me.

"Dear Annie," he begins. "Enclosed is, of course, the item of which I wrote to you earlier this month. I apologize that it took so long to get to you, but the condition it was retrieved in was unacceptable to be handled except by medical or sanitation professionals. Rest assured it has been properly cleaned.

"I regret to inform you that its condition has deteriorated drastically over the past eight years in the Capitol sewer system. Despite the sewer where it was located being cleared and rerouted years ago, the toxicity level that remained in the waste system was severe, and corroded the metal adversely. It will never operate as it once did when it belonged to your husband, and for that, I again apologize.

"I realize I've said this again and again, but I feel the point bears repeating: the construction workers tasked at filling in the underground tunnels where so many members of Squad 451 met their tragic end were strongly encouraged to recover any human remains they could. There were none to be found, despite a tireless search. It pains me greatly that you were never able to hold but a small memorial service for Finnick, and I so wished I could return any part of your husband that I could to you. I felt it was something I owed you after so many years. I have failed, and for that, I can never be sorry enough.

"It is my profound wish that having the enclosed parcel may bring you and your son some small iota of comfort after all these years. I know it does not need to be said, but I feel I must: Finnick Odair lived and died a hero. Our country shall never stop owing him a most serious debt for his sacrifice; he helped ensure our freedom. Our equality. Our second chance at getting things right. Your husband and your son's father is a hero of the highest order. His memory will never be forgotten; not by me in the final months of my Presidency, nor by my successor, nor his or hers after that. The name Finnick Odair will always be synonymous with bravery. My profound condolences again to you and yours. Please take good care. Most sincerely, Brinna Paylor."

Peeta's voice shakes as he refolds the letter and hands it to me. Katniss's eyes are damp. My throat feels tight, but my ears are wide open. Somehow or another, I am ready to see the inside of the parcel.

I open the latch with a flick of my wrist. The case opens silently to everyone except me. Katniss, Peeta, and I stare at the trident in wonder. In grief. In solidarity.

"Nick? Come here," I call up the stairs where my son is playing.

"Yes, Mama?" Nick replies as he bounds down the stairs.

"We want to show you something," I say, and pull him into my lap. He's growing too big for this spot. I can see his eyes dazzle in wonderment when he lays eyes on the trident, rusted but still regal and still shrouded in Finnick. He looks at me for an explanation.

"This belonged to your daddy, baby. It's been returned to us," I tell him.

"This was Daddy's? Mama…it's so beautiful…" he says. His fingers reach out to touch the metal. Instead of his tiny hand, I see Finnick's strong one, his lithe fingers poised to grip the handle and do with it as only he who was so skilled could.

Katniss rushes from the room when her emotions get the better of her. Peeta follows, allowing Nick and I our privacy. After a few more minutes of studying the trident, Nick turns to me, his face scrunched together in confusion.

"Mama," he says. "Was this what Daddy used to help save the world while I was growing in your tummy?"

I am nearly overcome, but I find it in me to nod.

"Then it's what I'll use, too. If the Capitol ever decides to be bad again, I'll use this to protect us. Daddy would have wanted that, right? He'd want me to protect us like he did."

"Finnick Cresta Odair…you are in every way your father's son," I tell him, and press my face into his hair as I begin to weep.

* * *

I hear nothing for a long time that night. The emotions of the day have run high, too high. The house sleeps soundly for a long time.

Then the nightmares begin.

**Thursday**

Peeta and Nick finish their project before dinner time. They make Katniss and I close our eyes as they lead us outside. Nick is buzzing with excitement. Peeta seems weary and proud. When they tell us to open our eyes, I recognize their contraption immediately. I'm amazed Peeta knows such a thing exists.

"It's called a coral nursery," Peeta explains as he wraps his arms around Katniss's waist. "Annie's friend Roan will attach pieces of sea coral to it tomorrow on the boat, and then we'll launch it into the ocean. After a few years, the coral will expand, and create an entirely new ecosystem for sea creatures. It's…well…I thought it befitted Finnick's memory to create new life in the place he loved so much."

"Daddy would love it, wouldn't he, Mama?" Nick says, beaming up at me proudly. The structure is simple: just a few pieces of pipe fitted together into a large cube, slatted and ready to take on a life of its own out under the waves. Peeta has created something _perfect._

"I'm sure your daddy _does_ love it, little bug," Katniss says to Nick. She clings to Peeta's arm like she needs him to steady her. She's again awash with emotions.

"Annie…I left a slat open…would you like to…?"

"Yes. It's the perfect place for the trident," I agree with Peeta before he has a chance to finish his sentence.

"I'll have to go to town and see if the hardware store is still open. I'll need some sort of file to grind down the tips, for the coral's safety, of course. Not to mention all the fish…" Peeta says. No, I don't suppose that fish think much of tridents, only ever having seen them goring their schoolmates through the stomachs. But the trident should be part of this. Finnick's burial at sea, like he always would have wanted. If I can't scatter his ashes there, I can lay to rest that last piece of him, and finally be at peace myself.

I look down at my son. His lip is quivering. His cheeks are red. His eyes are glassy.

"What's wrong, baby? You and Uncle Peeta did such a good job…"

"We're going to put this in the ocean, Mama. We can't put the trident on it…we'll never see it again." Nick's voice is serious. He's so rarely serious.

I look to Katniss and Peeta nervously. They know this was my plan with the trident all along. Peeta created this vessel as a coffin of sorts for the trident. This was how it was supposed to be. This act of letting go is what I needed them here for so desperately.

"Nick…baby…" I kneel down to his eye level to try to calmly explain. I don't need to say another word. He understands.

And he's furious.

"NO!" he screams, and shoves my chest hard. "NO, IT BELONGS TO ME! IT'S MY PIECE OF DADDY AND YOU WON'T TAKE IT AWAY FROM ME. NO MAMA! NO!"

It's the loudest Nick has been since he was a baby and didn't know about my ears. I can't stop myself: I clap my hands over my ears. This is the wrong thing to do. It sets my son's temper off even worse.

"LISTEN TO ME, MAMA! DON'T CLOSE YOUR EARS! IT'S MINE! IT'S MY PIECE OF DADDY! I NEED IT! I NEED IT I NEED IT I NEED IT!"

Katniss steps forward and grabs Nick around the waist. He flails wildly in her arms, and pounds at her chest in frustration. She doesn't struggle or try to stop him. She lets him cry and scream, but she's taking him into the house to muffle the animalistic sounds coming from his mouth. Peeta kneels next to me, and puts his arms around me.

"Oh, Annie…I didn't even think about that…" he whispers. I can still hear Nick screaming in the house. My hands don't come down from my ears. "Annie? Annie? Are you alright? Say something, will you please?"

"Go be with Katniss," I hiss at him.

"No, she's tending to Nick, I can…"

"Peeta, go! Go be with her! Take care of her! Love her! Don't let her out of your sight! Live your days out together, because one day she'll be gone, and all you'll have left is…is…"

I look to the coral nursery, and shake my head sadly. It was so lovely. Now even my memory of my husband is tarnished.

"Annie, please listen…"

I move my hands from my ears to the sides of Peeta's face. I make him look me in the eyes. "You wouldn't be a terrible father, Peeta. Katniss wouldn't be a terrible mother. You'd love your children so fiercely, and you'd always protect them. Convince her to try. Beg her. Plead. Bargain. You _should_ have children. They'd be loved like no child ever could be. You have had plenty of time to be frightened. Plenty of reason. But once you get married, please convince her. And love her. Unconditionally. Don't try to be quiet anymore. Scream. Cry. Remind her in every way how much you love her, how passionately you feel for her. Because one day, one of you will be gone. And if you didn't do that every day you could, you'll regret it. You'll regret it into the afterlife. Don't let that happen. Do you understand, Peeta? Tell me you understand…"

He's stunned. He's silent. He closes his fingers around mine. "Do…do you have regrets, Annie?"

I look at the assembled pipe cube. I think of the trident that sprang so easily from my husband's hand, and what they represent. I think of my child, crying still in the house, his beloved Auntie holding him close. I shake my head.

"No, Peeta. I have no regrets. Promise me you won't, either."

"I promise, Annie. I promise."

* * *

They quarrel once night falls.

"Don't do this, Peeta! Don't use Nick as your bargaining chip to get your way. I won't do it. I won't have a baby, and that's the end of it."

"I'm not asking you to let me finish inside of you tonight. I don't want to get you pregnant right now. I just want you to remember that it wouldn't be the end of the world."

"Yes, it would. We can barely protect _ourselves_. _Our_ _friends_. We couldn't protect Finnick…"

"It wasn't our job to protect Finnick, Katniss. He made his choice. He followed you. He would always have followed you, to the ends of the world and back. He would always have looked after me, tried to help me. That was his way."

"He's dead because of me, Peeta! Nick and Annie don't have him because of _me_! Don't you understand that?!"

"No. Because it's not true, Katniss. Not everything is your fault. Finnick…Cinna…Rue…Prim…none of them are your fault."

"Don't you dare…"

"Katniss…you carry the weight of the world on your shoulders. You have your reasons. But I'm going to marry you. Part of that deal is to let me help you. Please…let me help you…"

"Peeta, stop…"

"I love you. I never stopped loving you, even when I wasn't myself. I want to spend the rest of my days loving you, taking care of you…and one day, I'll do the same for our children. They'll be loved. They'll be safe. Don't you think we deserve that? You and me…we deserve it, Katniss…"

Katniss begins to cry. Peeta shifts in bed to hold her close. She speaks words that are muffled against some part of his body. I cannot understand them.

"I know," he whispers to her. "I know it."

I fall asleep before any other sounds come. But I'm sure they find their passion in each other before too much longer.

**Friday**

Roan and Peeta carry the coral nursery down the dock on our stretch of beach. Nick holds a lunch basket far too big for him. Katniss and I carry a few blankets and jackets, just in case the wind becomes much stronger. It should be a beautiful day, though. Perfect skies. Calm seas. Finnick's favorite kind of day.

Peeta and Katniss announced their engagement officially that morning at breakfast. At the last minute, Katniss called her mother, who joined us for pancakes but had declined our invitation to come out on our sail. She hugged her daughter close. She kissed her future-son-in-law's face. Their visit was brief, but meaningful. Years of disconnect will always plague the Everdeen women, but they'll get by.

Nick cannot wait for his Auntie and Uncle's wedding. They assure him it will be a small affair, but Nick has decided already that he's going to be like Peeta when he grows up, and make things for a living. Coral reefs. Wedding cakes. Art. Pancakes. He'll learn how to make them all, and he'll start with his Auntie and Uncle's wedding cake. He says his daddy would be proud of his decision. I'm sure Finnick would be.

I don't know what Katniss said to convince Nick to allow Peeta to attach the trident to the coral nursery. I'd taken a walk to calm myself. But when I'd returned, Peeta was filing down the prongs. Katniss was teaching him the lyrics to the Valley Song of Twelve. My son may be golden like his father, but he does _not_ have a golden voice. But it's a new song for him to whistle, and that's good enough for him.

I dreamed of children for Peeta and Katniss. Dark curls and blue eyes and a brilliant smile. Chubby cheeks and blonde locks with steely grey pupils. The perfect amalgam of the pair of them. I know they'll have them one day. Peeta wants them desperately. Katniss will stop being afraid, but it will take time. But, oh, the joy they'll have when that day arrives.

I hope to be at their side when it does to celebrate with them. I'll brave the atrocious noise of the train for them. For my truest of friends.

I hear something as Roan pushes the boat from the dock and set sail. Thanks to my astonishing ability to hear such things, I know I am the only one who does.

_Finnick._

It isn't words: the sweet nothings he'd whisper to me when I needed them, the jokes about Katniss's spinster ways or Peeta's unfailingly kind heart that was bound to get him into trouble one day.

It's his laugh. It echoes off the water, and fills me with hope. Hope for me and our son. Hope for my friends, who are starting the rest of their journey, to be filled with joy and happiness to make up for all the terrible times they did not deserve. Hope for our nation. Hope. Just hope.

I look and see Peeta take his fiancee in his arms, and kiss her sweetly. _They_ are the embodiment of that hope. Nick bounces up to them, and they pat his rosy cheeks. _He_ is the embodiment of that hope.

We will be alright.

* * *

I hear nothing that night but crashing waves and my son's tiny snores. The lovers next door are sound asleep. No nightmares.

**The End**

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to sohypothetically on Tumblr and FFdotNet for cheerleading, and letting me borrow her name for President Paylor for this story.


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